


Are You Washed in the Blood of the Lamb? A Child's Passion Play

by Martha



Category: Doctor Strange (Comics), Wolverine and the X-Men (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Yuletide, challenge:New Year Resolutions 2008, recipient:ramblinwanderer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:59:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Martha/pseuds/Martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Strange is ready to die for our sins. Wolverine raises a theological objection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Washed in the Blood of the Lamb? A Child's Passion Play

_Logan on a West Hollywood street lined with pastel bungalows, most of which could use a coat of paint. Cars are parked on both sides of the street. It's dusk, and the leaves on the Jacaranda trees are brown._

The house stank of blood. I could smell it clear out onto the street. Sour, metallic and very fresh.

 _Logan on the porch, outlined by the light spilling through the glass in the front door. We see the characteristic silhouette of his sideburns and wide-brimmed black hat._

I rang the door bell just to be polite. Nobody answered so I let myself in.

 _An ordinary living room. The street is visible through an old-fashioned picture window. A statuette of the Virgin Mary sits on top of the television set. Propped against one wall is a large, gilt-framed print of Jesus, a trio of blonde children at his knee. The glass over the print is cracked._

The blood smell was even stronger inside. But there was another scent too--the smell a' someone I'd never have expected to find in a place that reeked like an abattoir.

 _Logan crouches on the sofa in front of the picture window._

Doctor Stephen Strange, the wizard of Bleeker Street, had been on this very sofa not more 'n an hour ago.

 _Logan moves down a hallway, crouched forward, tracking._

I followed his smell back through the house, the stench of blood getting stronger. I was startin' to hate this. Blood and magic are a dirty combination. That's where religion comes from--someone tryin' to mystify bloodshed.

 _Logan in the kitchen; white counters, glass cupboards, conservative, practical china stacked on the shelves._

I've seen too much blood to buy that crap. Blood is hurtin', and pain, and death. If anyone tries to tell you different, keep your eye on him and reach for your gun.

 _Logan on the back porch; kitchen visible through the screen door behind him. His eyes are narrowed in disgust and shock._

I found him in the back yard. And it was even worse than I'd thought.

LOGAN: Ah, Doc, what in the name a' heaven have you gotten yourself into?

 _It's a typical postage stamp of a West L.A. back yard, bounded by a high redwood fence, lush with overgrown Bird of Paradise, rose bushes and lime trees. Doctor Strange hangs on the fence. He's been gagged with a strip of cloth torn from his own shirt, and his arms are stretched out along the four-by-six beam that runs perpendicular to the planking. His knees are bent, his hips twisted to the right, one foot crossed over the other, and the sole of his bottom foot pressed flat against the fence. His cloak is still draped over one shoulder; he's only wearing one glove. The other lies on the grass at his feet._

This is a man I'd seen holding back the gates of Hell. And someone had tacked him to a redwood fence easy as pinning a butterfly to a cork-board.

 _Logan runs across the lawn to Strange. Three people are just visible standing in the shadow of the house._

I've always respected Strange's power -- woulda been a fool not to. But in the back of my mind I always suspected that he was the kind who makes decisions that affect millions without ever havin' to get his hands dirty.

 _Logan lifts Doctor Strange's head. The weight of the magician's body has dragged his shoulders forward into points. Veins stand out along the length of his arms, and his fingers curl forward towards the spikes driven through both palms just above the wrist._

Well, his hands were dirty now. Someone had hammered tent stakes through them.

LOGAN: Doc? It's me, Logan. I'm gonna get you out of this.

 _Doctor Strange's face, cradled in Logan's hands. Logan has pulled the gag out of his mouth. Doctor Strange's eyes are half open, the pupils dilated with shock. Blood and sweat mingle on his forehead, and run down the side of his face._

I was talkin' a good game. only trouble is, I wasn't sure how I was gonna do it. Yanking him down off a' there by myself would hurt Doc even worse.

LOGAN: Doc, can you hold on a little bit longer? I'm gonna get medical help.

DOCTOR STRANGE: ...get out of here....

 _Past Logan's shoulder, three people have moved out of the shadow of the house--the Warrens and the child Mary. Her blond hair is short and she's wearing blue jeans and a sleeveless midriff top that hangs loosely over her flat chest._

He must mean the danger was still here. Why couldn't I sense it? It was just me and Doc and three people behind me--an old man and woman and a girl so young she'd just begun to menstruate. Her blood smelled sweet and pure compared to the reek of Strange's lifeblood draining away.

LOGAN: Who did this to you?

 _Logan's head is thrown back in anguished surprise. The lime trees are a silhouette against the red sky._

That's when something took a little stroll through my mind, and suddenly I understood why Doc had tried to get me the hell out of Dodge. A damned shame that now it was too late to follow his advice.

LOGAN: No!

 _Logan's fist is raised, claws extended._

Give the man credit. Nailed to a fence and he still tried to cast a spell. But the thing in my mind was too strong and too fast.

LOGAN: Doc--I can't control it--

DOCTOR STRANGE: By the--holy rings of Oshtur--

 _Logan impales Doctor Strange, the claws going through his left side and into the fence. Logan's head is down with the intensity of his struggle to prevent what has already happened. Strange's head has jerked up in agony._

The thing in my head jostled a few neurons, bridged a synapse or two, and I put my claws right through him.

DOCTOR STRANGE: Give me strength to--ah!

LOGAN: Doc, I'm sorry--

 _Logan and Doctor Strange, their faces only inches from each  
other. Blood is running from Strange's nose and the corner of his mouth._

I didn't get his heart, but from the frothy blood coming up, I could tell I'd snagged a lung. Quite a rescue I was mounting here.

 _Logan twists around to address the other three in the yard, his claws still in Strange's side._

Funny thing was, I still hadn't figured it out. I thought the old couple or the girl would help.

LOGAN: I can't pull my claws out or his lung'll collapse. You've got to call the West Coast Avengers for me. Tell 'em Logan and Doc Strange need help.

 _The Warrens and Mary have come close. The Warrens look serious, if satisfied with themselves. Mary simply seems uninterested._

LOGAN: Don't just stand there. Call 911--for Chrissakes, do something!

EARL: You will not blaspheme in this place.

 _Despairing, Logan turns away from the sinister trio_

It was them all along. How they did it didn't matter anymore. Something sick and twisted was going down, an' unless I wanted to hurry Strange's demise along, I couldn't do much but stand here and watch it happen.

LOGAN: Doc, if you've got any tricks left up your sleeve, now'd be the time to pull 'em out.

* * *

 _A sitting room in Doctor Strange's Bleeker Street mansion. Strange is taking tea with Earl and Betty Warren._

I'd heard of the Warrens over the years, of course. They made the talk show circuit calling themselves demonologists. Since their activities seemed limited to sprinkling holy water and producing faked psychic photographs, I had written them off as harmless charlatans. But this time they seemed to have stumbled onto something genuine.

 _Betty sipping from a tea cup, her pudgy pinkie finger delicately extended._

The Warrens had recently been appointed guardians of an adolescent girl abandoned by her parents.

BETTY: I'm afraid you're the girl's last hope, Doctor. The Catholic church won't perform an exorcism because they don't recognize the demon we believe is possessing her.

 _Earl's eating a muffin. Rather messily. He's wearing a denim shirt and blue jeans stretched tight over his ample gut. He's clearly the type who takes elaborate pride in being a no-nonsense man's man._

What made the case sensational was the reason for the girl's abandonment. Her parents had claimed they could no longer live with the violent psychic manifestations that had surrounded the girl since she reached puberty.

EARL: But we all know, Stephen, that there are more things in heaven and earth than are acknowledged by the Catholic hierarchy

 _Doctor Strange sits in a wingback chair, wearing a white dress shirt and plain black trousers. He looks at Earl and Betty over his steepled fingers._

DOCTOR STRANGE: Well, we shouldn't overlook the possibility of other explanations for these manifestations. The girl may, for instance, have undiagnosed telekinetic abilities --

 _Betty leans forward earnestly, laying one finger aside her nose._

BETTY: Oh, no, Doctor! You see, I'm psychic myself, as you've probably already divined. If Mary was just a young psychic, I'd have been able to help her myself.

DOCTOR STRANGE: Yes, I--see.

 _Doctor Strange sitting at the window seat on an airplane, looking out at the clouds, or perhaps simply at his own reflection in the glass._

In the end, I agreed to go to Los Angeles and see the girl. it was highly unlikely that she was really demon-possessed, but I couldn't ignore the plight of a girl discovering frightening powers within herself, and whose only guidance seemed to be coming from Earl and Betty Warren.

 _Strange leafs through a folder of papers on a seatback table._

If, as I expected, the phenomena manifesting itself around the girl turned out to be psychokinetic in origin, I hoped to be able to steer her towards professionals who would be able to help her -- Professor Xavier's school, for instance.

 _Doctor Strange getting out of a yellow cab in front of the West Hollywood bungalow. Betty stands on the front porch to welcome him._

BETTY: Doctor Strange! Thank you again for coming. I hope you had a nice flight.

 _The living room. Earl, Betty, Doctor Strange and Mary. Mary shakes Strange's hand as she is introduced, but she doesn't meet his eye._

My first thought was that I had been wrong to dismiss the possibility of possession so cavalierly. There was a palpable air of evil in the house.

BETTY: Mary, this is Doctor Strange. He's going to help you with the frightening things that have been happening.

DOCTOR STRANGE: It's nice to meet you, Mary. Call me Stephen.

 _The framed picture of Jesus with the children drops to the floor. Strange looks over his shoulder, startled. Mary's expression doesn't change._

A picture crashed to the floor behind me. if Mary caused it, she certainly gave no sign.

BETTY: My goodness. Do you see, it's starting already.

DOCTOR STRANGE: Mary, if you'll let me, I'd like to try and help you now.

 _The Eye of Amagotto, partially opened, has appeared over Strange's plain dark suit._

DOCTOR STRANGE: There's no need to be frightened. I'd like you to relax, and the Eye of Amagotto will show me if there's an outside influence at work here.

MARY: S'all right.

 _The eye has moved to Strange's forehead. Mary is bathed in its light. Her eyes are half-closed, her hands are curled on her lap._

But the Eye revealed nothing except the confusion and anxiety of a fourteen-year-old girl.

DOCTOR STRANGE: I see nothing connected with you, Mary.

 _Strange turns to Earl and Betty._

DOCTOR STRANGE: With your permission, I'd like to examine the house and its environment. My astral form can search the intersecting planes of reality here.

 _Earl and Betty, side by side._

Earl: Of course, Steve. Betty here has to lie down when she sends her astral spirit out. If you'd like to use the couch--

DOCTOR STRANGE: Thank you.

 _Doctor Strange sitting on the sofa. His head has dropped back as the wispy form of his astral spirit rises above his body. Earl and Betty stand over his unconscious form._

And with no more caution than that, I left my body in the care of two charlatans and a disturbed adolescent girl.

EARL: Keep this Warlock occupied, Mary, while Betty and I get ready to give him a taste of his own demonic medicine.

 _Earl dragging Doctor Strange down the hall. He backs along, holding Strange under his shoulders, looking over his shoulder to see where he's going. Mary is follows along behind._

EARL: Betty, get the kitchen door for me.

 _Doctor Strange sits at a dinner table with Clea, Wong, Sara, Rintrah, and others whose faces are indistinct. Sara is passing a loaf of french bread to Strange. The colors of the scene are faint as a watercolor wash._

The trap sprang shut before I had any idea it even existed.

SARA: What's the matter, Doc? You seem preoccupied.

DOCTOR STRANGE: The one who will betray me is sitting at this table.

 _Strange's friends rise in consternation._

It was the girl, Mary, after all.

WONG: Master, no.

CLEA: Love, what are you saying?

RINTRAH: Is it I?

 _Doctor Strange, Wong, Rintrah and Sara Wolf walking in Central Park. It's very late at night. Strange is not hiding his cape; Rintrah is in his true form._

This was Mary's reality, cunningly peopled with figments from my own thoughts.

RINTRAH: Forgive me, master, but I don't understand. What are we doing here?

DOCTOR STRANGE: I need to meditate. To ask that this cup be taken from me.

 _Doctor Strange kneels on a hillside above the lake. Sara is standing above him, confronting him angrily, her arms crossed over her chest and her chin jutting._

Mary's scenario locked onto my soul, and even though I knew it wasn't real, I saw no way to escape it.

SARA: Look, Doc, Wong and Rintrah may not know what's going on, but my foster parents were Mormon, and I can tell you that this Garden-of-Gethsemene crap is starting to scare me.

 _Strange's bowed head, in profile. Sara's angry face is visible just beyond._

DOCTOR STRANGE: My soul is grieved to the point of death. Stay and keep watch with me.

Sara: Goddamnit, cut it out!

 _Strange has been seized by police in riot gear. In the midst of them, Clea bends to kiss Strange, tenderly lifting his head with her hands. The white shields and helmets of the police gleam luminescent in the moonlight._

DOCTOR STRANGE: Do what you have come for, love.

 _The flashing red lights send dark beacons through the evening mist. Two policeman are holding Strange bent over the hood of a squad car, and one brandishes a nightstick._

POLICEMAN: Prophecy to us, Sorcerer. Who struck you?

 _Doctor Strange in the dock. The Judge is wigged, wearing scarlet and ermine. Strange's arms shackled. The faces of the jury high in their box are blank, hairless and distant._

JUDGE: You are this world's Sorcerer Supreme?

DOCTOR STRANGE: You have said that I am.

 _The Bailiff slaps Strange._

DOCTOR STRANGE: If I am lying, bring witnesses against me, but if I am telling the truth, why do you strike me?

 _Strange lifts his shackled hands to wipe the blood from his mouth._

JUDGE: You have been condemned by your own words.

 _Strange walking down a prison corridor. The prison chaplain is beside him, a small dark man with a clerical collar._

CHAPLAIN: It is expedient that one man die, rather than a whole world be destroyed.

 _Strange and the chaplain again, but now they are climbing Golgotha, and Strange is dragging a crude wooden mandala._

But Mary was only a child, after all, and she finally overreached herself.

 _The backyard, seen from above, where Strange's astral form hovers. His body nailed to the fence is partially hidden by the overgrown lime trees, and by the Warrens who are huddled around him._

When Mary's world became more a product of her own mind, and less an amalgam of my thoughts with hers, I was able to slip away.

 _The backyard from ground level. The Warrens have already staked Strange's hands to the fence, and are in the process of hammering spikes through his feet as well. Earl holds Strange's legs against the fence, one foot crossed over the other, while Betty wields the mallet and tent spike. Strange's head hangs forward, and he's been gagged with his own shirt._

While Mary imprisoned my spirit, the Warrens had mutilated my body. They must have thought I wouldn't return to a form so badly hurt.

 _Strange re-enters his body, and throws back his head in a muffled scream. Earl stands close, staring greedily up at Strange's anguished face._

The pain was unendurable. It was a mistake to reenter a body so grievously wounded. The very weight of my hanging body was suffocating me. And I realized that if this pair of charlatans intended to kill me, they would probably succeed.

EARL: Back from Hell already? Don't worry. Betty and I are going to send you back for good.

* * *

 _Return to the present. Close-up of Logan's face; the green of the yard and the darkness of the night sky visible behind him._

Then Wolverine had appeared here, steered by a fate that I had not yet taken into account. Though I had warned him away, and he had wounded me further, I finally realized that he might be able to help.

LOGAN: Doc, can you hear me? It has to be your move now. You'll be dead in no time if I take my claws out.

 _Close up of Strange's bruised, bloody face, as he struggles to focus on Logan._

And damned if Doc didn't manage to answer me. Which didn't mean I liked what he had to say.

DOCTOR STRANGE: You must return with me to Mary's vision. She won't be prepared for your psyche. You may be able to shatter her scenario from within.

 _The Warrens are closer now. Betty holds a little bottle of holy water aloft; Earl has a crucifix. Logan has twists around to face them as best he can, unsheathing the claws of his free hand._

EARL: By the power vested in me by the authority of the Father, the Son and--

LOGAN: You only get one warning. Don't come any closer.

 _Logan slumped to his knees, his left arm stretched upwards and his claws still in Strange's side. Strange's head has dropped forwards._

An' with no more warning than that, Doc snatched me away.

 _A small group of people stand by a stunted tree at the edge of a moor. They wear white tunics with elaborate, dull gold jewelry twisted into heavy knots around their wrists, upper arms, throats and brows. Logan stands among them, similarly attired. Stephen Strange is there too, but he is dressed in a plain black tuxedo. His only concession to this time and place is the unadorned gold circlet on his brow._

I found myself in a dream of an ancient religion, steeped in blood and earth an' the ritual slaughter of kings.

 _Strange and a priest stand a little apart from the others. Strange looks straight ahead. The priest's arms are widely outspread, his head thrown back to address the tree and the moor as well as his people._

I believed it all--the bog, the flippin' togas. Strange was our god-king an' we were gathered to consecrate his reign.

PRIEST: The king's flesh is the soil, while his blood laps the shore of the marsh, and rises with the tides.

 _Two women stand on each side of Strange, fastening trailing leather thongs to his arms. Strange's head is bowed in submission as the priest lifts his crown away._

I knew exactly what was about to happen, an' I was glad.

 _Strange is bound to the stunted tree, his arms secured over his head. He is naked now, the tuxedo in rags at his feet. The priest is placing a twisted circle of green on his head._

We stripped him, tied 'im to the oak tree, and crowned him with mistletoe.

 _A long view of the hillock by the marsh--Strange slumped in his bonds, the priest before him, the other worshippers standing respectfully back. Only Logan is shoulder to shoulder with the priest._

Strange had made a helluva mistake bringing me into the dream with 'im. I was as hungry as all the rest to see his blood spilled on the oak tree, soakin' into the ground at his feet.

 _Logan is closest to Strange, the claws on one hand extended. His claws are the same color as the dull gold jewelry they all wear, articulated with the same elaborate scrolls and whorls._

I was the one chosen to perform the work--to give the king's blood back to the land.

 _Logan and Strange face to face. Logan lays one hand, claws sheathed, upon the bound magician's naked shoulder. His other hand rests just below Strange's breastbone, the claws extended down across his stomach. Logan's eyes are narrowed and intense. Strange stares back dully, his pupils dilated. The poisonous waxy white berries are visible among the twisted mistletoe branches in his hair._

I knew what to do. First the castration and disembowelment, an' only when the king's agony had been allowed to replenish the land along with his blood could I pull the heart from his chest.

 _Logan slashing at the thongs that bind Strange._

But I didn't do it. My head was swimmin' with the need for blood, but I didn't take his.

 _Logan turns away from the stunted oak tree, cradling Strange's long white form in his arms. The priest and the other worshippers are gone._

I still wasn't in my right mind, but I'd finally remembered what I'd known all along--there ain't any magic in blood. Just that it does a helluva lot more good flowin' in yer veins than soaking inta the ground.

LOGAN: You aren't gettin' any more from us. We're gonna be leaving now. Don't try to stop us.

 _The Warren's back yard again. Logan's claws are still in Doctor Strange's side, but Logan is on his feet again. Strange's head is up, his eyes open._

DOCTOR STRANGE: Thank you. You've freed my astral form. I'll be back with help soon.

 _Strange's astral form escaping from his physical body, which slumps heavily against the fence. Logan looks on in exasperation._

Then Strange was gone again, leaving me to deal with people who--from what I'd seen--could pretty much do anything they damn well pleased.

 _Mary, Earl and Betty. Mary has turned away from the other two._

BETTY: Mary, thou must not suffer a witch to live.

EARL: Our savior shed his blood for your salvation. How much greater will be our blessings when we spill the blood of a sorcerer for his sake?

 _Mary's face, her colorless eyes widened a bit behind her blonde-white eyelashes._

MARY: Huh-uh. The one with the claws is right. I'd rather have a soda than blood, you know?

 _Mary has come close to Wolverine and Strange, and she looks intently at the two of them. Strange is still unconscious, and she addresses herself to Logan._

MARY: I'm sorry I let Betty and Earl hurt him so bad. But they said Jesus would take away my demon if I gave him a witch's blood.

LOGAN: Girl, nobody would deny you've got the power. But those two behind you are the only demonic ones around here.

 _Mary turns and begins to walk away._

MARY: Yeah. Guess I'll be going now.

LOGAN: Wait--

EARL: Mary!

 _Doctor Strange enveloped in white light. Wolverine covers his own face with his forearm to protect his face._

 _Strange standing on barefoot on the grass. The tops of his feet are marked, and he is looking down at the scars on the palms of both hands._

LOGAN: Doc? You OK?

DOCTOR STRANGE: Yes. Mary--brought me back. She left me the stigmata because I deserved them.

 _Strange clenches his fists, looks up at Wolverine._

LOGAN: What?

DOCTOR STRANGE: A reminder of how easy it was for her to trap me. She cast me as a savior, and I perfectly willing to believe it. I have been guilty of the sin of hubris, and if Mary hadn't shown mercy at the end, I would have died for it.

Just like the Doc. Never give a straight answer to a simple question.

LOGAN: What do you want to do about those two?

DOCTOR STRANGE: The authorities are coming for them.

LOGAN: And that kid? She stopped the two of us without even breakin' into a sweat. We can't just leave her to wander where she wants.

DOCTOR STRANGE: I don't know that we could prevent her. But you're right. I will look for her.

LOGAN: You sure you're well enough? You're still looking a little shaky on your pins.

DOCTOR STRANGE: Yes. Well. It's a long climb down from Golgotha.


End file.
